


Zootopia 1.2 Predator Friends of Nick

by Doug48



Series: Zoo 1.2 [3]
Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Crime Fighting, Drama, F/M, No Smut, Police Procedural, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-02-27 13:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13248870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doug48/pseuds/Doug48
Summary: This is an alternate universe, but based on the movie. Many of the same events will happen, but Nick is less like a con-mammal and more like the version I've read in other fan fictions [see Kulkum for the best alternate Nick I've seen]. Judy is less like the apparently naïve rabbit in my previous attempt [Zoo 1.1] and some events from that one will be more or less the same. This one will focus mainly on Nick.





	1. What did you think?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We've all seen the movie, but not everyone feels the same way about it. Join us as we talk to some mammals after they saw it....

"And what did you think of the movie?"

"It was very entertaining, of course, but remember that it's based on reality, and not very closely," the fox replied. "It's a mammal utopia? Really? Maybe for some mammals, but that ain't what I see."

His friends nod, and he continues. "This was no documentary and THAT wasn't the Nick we knew then or now."

"Some have questioned Nick's decision to join the ZPD. How do you feel about that?"

"Sure, sure, he becomes a cop eventually, but that's not because Judy Hopps inspired him to become a better mammal. He's already a good mammal and the best friend I could ever have." 

"So, what really happened?"

"Well, the movie started when Judy was attacked by Gideon Gray. That was what? 15 years before the rest of the story? Later, Judy becomes a cop, meets Nick, and all that night howler stuff was going on, so...."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get a slightly different perspective this time. Last time, it was Nick and Judy, as told by Nick and Judy. This time, it's told by a friend of Nick's, so I'm going to be changing some details.


	2. Carrot Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young Judy Hopps has an unpleasant encounter at the festival with a young Gideon Gray.

“…it's OK to have dreams, just as long as you don’t believe in them too much,” Stu Hopps finished, after having looked at his wife, Bonnie, and then back toward the empty space that, only moments ago, contained a young female rabbit.

“Now where the heck did she go?” Stu asked, looking around. As a family of rabbits, Bonnie and Stu had many many children, but Judy was special in various ways. For one thing, she was curious, while most of her brothers and sisters were more phlegmatic. Judy wanted to try new things and had only just today told her parents, and everyone else at the play, that she wanted to be a police officer. She wanted to help other mammals, and this made her parents proud, but they worried because police work was known to be dangerous for a rabbit in a world full of larger mammals and predators. They had been discussing this when young Judy disappeared. 

“Huh. Well, she’ll be back, probably. Can’t have gone far. I don’t see her or hear her…” Stu said, perking up his ears, and listening more closely for the distinctive sound of Judy’s voice. 

Then they heard the scream. 

“There!” Bonnie said, pointing toward a gap between stalls. They started running / hopping in that direction. “She must have gone between those two-“

They saw her and stopped in their tracks. She was face up on the ground. Face slashed, but not deeply. Her police costume was torn, and there was a gash on one arm. To her parents, it appeared as if she had been mauled by a predator. 

“Who was it?” Stu asked. 

“Gideon Gray,” Judy said, softly. 

Bonnie threw back her head and screamed. Stu picked up Judy and watched as dozens, and then scores, of additional rabbits converged. They were all Hopps clan, because Bunnyborough is a Hopps town, and Carrot Days a Hopps festival, but with some welcome guests. One of those guests was about to find himself very unwelcome.

“See your sister? Daughters, find the predator that did it. Search for Gideon Gray. Tell us if he is still here at the festival or tell us he isn't,” Bonnie said. As one, the does scattered, searching. The bucks waited. They would have work to do when they had a location. 

Other faire goers had noticed the commotion and also came to help. One of them, a tiger, said, “I’m a doctor. Let me see her!”

Stu hesitated, but he believed their daughter needed expert help, and the quicker the better, so he couldn’t be very choosey about who offered it, even if tigers are predators, like Gideon Gray. Stu carried Judy to a nearby bench and set her down. The tiger got immediately to work, taking note of vital signs and checking for further injuries. 

“No concussion. Blood pressure good. Looks worse than it is, so we probably don't need an ambulance.” One had already been called, however. 

“Mister and Misses Hopps?” Another voice inquired, and Bonnie turned, seeing a police mammal. This one was a buffalo. “I’m Officer Bogo, from the ZPD, Zootopia Police Department. Please tell me what happened.”

“One of our daughters was mauled by a fox named Gideon Gray. My other daughters are looking for him,” the older doe said. Then she turned away. “My sons will take care of the matter. We don’t need your help.”

“Ma’am, we can’t let you do that,” the cop said to her back, but he didn’t know how he could prevent it. There were scores of rabbits present and they all had a certain look that the cop had seen several times. Their ears were down behind their heads, their eyes were angry, and their body postures were closed. They would not listen to him. 

Bonnie’s phone pinged and she got a text message. “He's not at the faire, so he's probably at his home. Officer Bogo? You get there first and you can have him. My sons get there first? You can have whatever is left.” 

Bogo started to tell her that such things are illegal, but stopped. This is Bunnyborrow, a Hopps town. Every bunny would say exactly what their matriarch told them to say, which would probably be some version of “don’t know nothing about no dead fox.”

Cursing under his breath, Bogo ran for his cruiser as dozens of bucks ran/hopped past him, heading for the Gray residence. Bogo's car would have to take the road, but the rabbits headed out cross country. 

Bogo won the race, but not by much. The rabbits watched as the young fox surrendered outside his home and was loaded into a police car.

“Where's he going?” one of the rabbits asked. His ears were straight up and his shoulders were slightly hunched forward. There were no weapons in evidence, but Bogo knew that wouldn’t matter. They would have knocked the fox down and kicked him until he was dead and then some. 

“Zootopia,” the cop replied.

“Too bad,” the rabbit said. He looked at the prisoner in the car. "Have a nice trip, fox."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted a different scene from the movie and I wanted to give more details, but I wasn't sure quite how much different to make it. Let me know what you think.


	3. Jumbo Pop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two foxes walk into an ice cream parlor, and then a rabbit buys them an ice cream. The foxes sell the ice cream and then one of them argues with the rabbit.

“Well, that was a fun way to spend the day,” the larger fox says to the shorter one walking beside him on the sidewalk. They’re friends, but not father and son as they appear. In fact, they are two different breeds of fox, and only one of them is dressed like an elephant.

There is no reply, so Nick, watching for a reaction from his friend, continues, “I expect the party would have been more fun had we been invited and not been kicked out before they cut the cake. You know, I was really looking forward to the cake. It was one of those white cake, chocolate icing things. I just love how the icing totally gives you the idea that the cake is actually chocolate, then then you cut it and-“

“Stop that,” Finn cuts him off. “You know I hate it when you blather on like that. Like some sort of mindless animal.”

“So stop doing the stoic thing and tell me what went wrong.”

“Simple, really. I was party entertainment. Invited you. Hostess must have changed her mind and forgot me. Guessing now, but her kit probably had some sort of recent elephant trauma.”

“Pretty good guess, considering the kit’s reaction to your costume,” Nick replied. There was a great deal of crying and screaming involved, and, soon after, a request for Nick and Finn to leave. Leave they did, with tails between their legs.  


“Please don’t remind me.” 

The foxes are in a city called Zootopia, where the citizens are all sentient, bipedal, mammals. Different species of predators and prey live together in a kind of unity that would surprise anyone from a thousand or more years ago. Foxes, wolves, rabbits, and sheep all live side by side with lions, tigers, panthers, deer, and buffalo. Large, medium, and small mammals interact constantly, and mammals from different climates, and with formerly different eating habits, live and work in more or less constant, close proximity. 

The city has four primary climates: dry, wet, hot, and cold. All of these can now exist far closer together now than ever before, and so mammals like polar bears and lions can easily communicate muzzle to muzzle. This was the great Doctor Otterheimer’s final gift. Some mammals, a very few, even form intimate relationships with mammals of other species and sometimes even between predator and prey. Not that everyone always agrees with that sort of thing.

“And another thing. I thought you hated kids’ parties? Didn’t you once say something about ‘too many tikes and not enough tequila?’ Wasn’t that only last week?” Nick asked. He glanced left and down at his friend’s ears, which were much larger than Nick’s own, and brown. The green eyed, red fox could not see Finn’s eyes.

“Can’t hide out in Wolfhollow forever. Doing it for you to get another female. What better place than a kit’s birthday party? All those vixens, some without a todd at home. Thought it’d be a kind of target rich environment. Warm Sunday afternoon, all those sun dresses. We saw and smelled the same things, I’m sure.”

“Well, thanks, but I’m not sure I’m ready for marital bliss. Your vixen kicked you out and now you’re living in your van. It’s nice, but I don’t have a van, so what am I going to do when I get kicked out?” 

“Funny. Obviously, don’t make the mistakes, and don’t get kicked out. For example, don’t mark and mate the first one you meet like I did! There are plenty of females to chose from, and no reason to rush into anything. We foxes mate for life, so chose carefully!”

“Yes, old one. I will prosper enormously by following your sage advice!” Nick replied sarcastically and rolled his eyes. “I suppose it doesn’t matter that we got kicked out. Nothing there I liked anyway and they certainly didn't like me.”

“How could you-. No, skip that. Don’t tell me you’re still doing that ‘vixens don’t understand me’ thing? We’re foxes. We mate foxes and then don’t pick another one unless there is no other way,” Finn said with some firmness. Nick knew Finn could be very pious, sometimes. 

“You could have gotten a vixen easily if you told them where you work,” he said suddenly.

“Sure, sure,” Nick replied. “You know I’ve tried that before-" 

"Wait a minute. Where are we going?” The taller fox stops and looks at the shorter one, who also stops. 

“Well, I was thinking about getting a jumbo pop, and there’s a place just ahead on Proboscidea. Bet you I can get someone in there to feel sorry for us and then we can get one for free. They’re elephants, and I’m dressed like one, so it’s perfect.”

“And why are we going to do that? We could just buy one. I know we have the money, or I do anyway.”

“Where’s the fun?” Finn replied. “We’ll be professional performers. We perform, and then we get paid.”

“No, mammals like Gazelle are professionals. You’re an amateur. She gets paid; you don’t. And I'm not an actor.”

“Whatever,” Finn said.

“I heard about this place. ‘Two Scoops and One Trunk’. As I recall, they don’t sell to our kind,” Nick said. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah….”

“You see that rabbit cop doing the meter maid thing across the street, right? What do you think she’s going to do when we cause a scene in there because they refuse to sell to us? Don’t tell me we like ZPD cops in our business now?” Nick asks, crossing his arms and waiting. 

“No, but it doesn’t matter. I heard about this one. Her name is Hopps and she's the first bunny cop. Wants to make the world a better place and all that. She’ll take our side if you present the story right. I’m your son, it’s my birthday, and I idolize elephants. You’re trying to buy me a red jumbo pop, but they won’t sell to us because they’re mean and heartless or whatever. She’ll fall for it. Humor me, OK?”

“Fine, I’ll do the talking,” Nick said, sounding resigned. Then he uncrossed his arms and followed Finn toward, and then into, the store. 

As expected, the elephants refused to sell a jumbo pop to the foxes and, as expected, the idealistic rabbit got into the argument on the side of the foxes and bought them a jumbo pop. 

Nick was very happy until he saw the non-standard red can of fox repellent on the belt of her blue uniform. Momentarily unsure of what to do, he let her buy the jumbo pop and then introduced himself and Finn.

“I’m Mr. Wilde, Nick Wilde, and this is my son Finn.” Finnick, of course, said nothing. 

The three of them went outside, and Nick could see the cop trying to think of something nice to say. ‘Why is she so surprised by this sort of thing? Different types of mammals don’t get along in Zootopia, but she seems to think we do, or at least we should, even if she personally fears and dislikes mammals like us. Maybe she’s not as small minded as I thought?’ Nick wondered, but did not say. 

Nick starts to feel very cautiously optimistic. He doesn’t meet many good cops, and this one-

“I just want to say that you’re a great dad and a real articulate fellow,” she continues. It’s clear from her tone, scent, and body language, including the wide open eyes, upright ears, and generally open stance that she’s sincere, and probably, trying to be kind. “I hate to see such closed-minded mammals treating you that way.” 

Many replies came to Nick in that moment, including ‘Gee, thanks, but could you treat us like the sentient mammals we are instead of drooling idiots?’ or possibly ‘Thanks for giving us the jumbo pop and not spraying us with that repellent.’ Instead he says, “And it’s a real pleasure to meet someone so non-patronizing.”

That comment goes right over her head, and she leaves happy after advising Finn to be whatever he likes, because “this is Zootopia, where anyone can be anything.” 

“I tell him that all the time,” the larger fox says, and then both foxes go their way with the jumbo pop. Nick waits until the Officer Hopps is out of rabbit hearing range, and then asks, “So what now? We’ve got the jumbo pop and it’s going to melt. We found out last time that we can’t possibly eat the whole thing.”

“Now: melt, mold, refreeze, and sell, but faster this time.”

“Great river, give me strength.”

***********************

The rabbit had been writing traffic tickets all morning before she met the foxes. ‘What nice urban predators!’ she thought. ‘Community relations work isn’t as hard as I expected.’

Today was her first day. First in her class at the police academy, she was disappointed to be assigned to parking duty, but she was doing her job. This would be a happy memory, and so she was glad when she saw the foxes again until she discovered that Nick and Finn are not father and son, and Finn was not going to eat the jumbo pop. She followed them around hot Sahara Square where they melted the jumbo and then followed them into cold Tundratown where they refroze it into many smaller pops. These they then sold Downtown for a small profit. 

“What are we going to do about the cop?” Finn asked, watching Judy’s traffic tricycle as it followed them. The red and blue lights were on, so it was easy to see. 

“Let me off at 4th and Carnivora,” Nick said. “The rabbit and I will have a nice chat on the way to the Lagomorpha Lane sidewalk repair project. I'll give her some advice, maybe I’ll get her to see our point of view, and then I’ll text you. What could go wrong?”

**************************

The fox talked to the rabbit, but she wasn’t interested in his advice. The rabbit started with, “You lied to me, you liar!” The fox denied it, and lead the rabbit on an obstacle course that finally ended when Nick paused and Judy got in front of him. They had been bickering all the while. “I will not be lectured to by a loser who couldn’t even be bothered to try to accomplish his own dreams,” the rabbit said. 

“We can only be what we are. Sly fox and dumb bunny,” Nick said while pointing to himself and then to her. "Obviously."

“I am not a dumb bunny,” she replied. Her body posture is rigid and her ears are fully focused on him. Her anger is obvious in her scent as well. 

“And that’s not wet cement” the fox replied, as the bunny sank a few inches. 

"Keep trying. Maybe you'll be a supervisor some day," the fox said, and quickly crossed the Lane to get away from her. He doesn’t notice the city maintenance worker beavers pull her out almost immediately and doesn't notice the way her eyes follow him. ‘Why am I so upset about this?’ he wonders. 

And then, as often happens when someone is distracted, a stranger decides to lend a helping hand. The hand, or hoof in this case, belongs to a ram that grabs the fox and pushes him into an alley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of long and heavy on dialogue, but I wasn't sure where to put the chapter break in now that I'm not alternating points of view this time. 
> 
> Also, I've got some foreshadowing in here because it's the first time we see this version of Nick, so I may come back periodically and edit some parts. I'll try not to. Problem is that I wrote and rewrote this story many times and some things came out of later chapters and others came in, so the foreshadowing thing was tricky.


	4. Fight in the alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick is about to fight some sheep when a bunny does it for him

The fox is so distracted that he doesn’t even notice the sheep until their paws shove him into an alley. He doesn’t duck and roll because he isn’t moving very fast and this sort of thing is a dead give-away that he knows what he’s doing. He’d rather keep them in the dark a little while. That's his first thought. 

Followed by his second thought, ‘What is this, screw with Nick Wilde day?’ 

And the third thought, ‘What next? Oh yes, now I have to pretend to be afraid.’ Fear is a normal reaction for an innocent mammal accosted by criminal thugs, after all, especially when at least one of the thugs is armed. 

“Guys, can’t we talk about this?” he asks, backing deeper in the alley and apparently trying to feel for the wall by putting his paws behind his back. He’s got weapons, including a licensed tranquilizer pistol, and several cheap knives. The rams are too close for the pistol. He keeps his hands behind him and his tail down, trying to make his body look smaller. 

The fox doesn’t plan to kill these two, so he won't use poison and he’ll stay away from their throats and heads, but that doesn’t mean he can’t thoroughly discourage them by getting in several body shots. He knows their boss will cover up anything short of murder because nobody actually wants to get the Zoo Police Department involved. Now, he just needs a little more time to get them all the way into the alley and out of sight of the mammals on the street and any inconvenient cell phone cameras.

The ram closest to him is obviously the brains of this operation, and he replies. “Shut up, Wilde. You think you can talk your way out of everything? You’ve got to learn to keep your pred muzzle out of our business. My brother Lonnie and I are going to cut you seven ways. Take some fingers, maybe an ear, and then-“ The sheep are almost far enough into the alley for the fox to turn on them when the rabbit re-appears, surprising everyone.

The fox continues to back toward one of the alley walls, but the sheep freeze in place. They were told to leave the fox alive, to make sure they weren’t seen, and to threaten anyone that did see them, but they weren’t told what to do if a police mammal saw them. The cop uses her radio and the rams know they have to do something. 

“This is Officer Hopps. I am near the 2000 block of Lagomorpha Street. Possible 10-31 in the alley. Two rams and one red fox-.“ The closer ram, Lonnie, waves his knife, trying to get the rabbit to run. If she runs, the rams might be able to escape and then catch that annoying fox alone again later. The sheep is not trying very hard to get close enough to actually slash the cop because he’s bright enough to know what his boss would do to him if he injures a member of the ZPD.

The cop puts away her radio and brushes off her hat. “Sir, put down the knife."

“Cute bunny want to fight?” Lonnie asks and comes close enough to try a slash with the knife in his right paw. The knife is shiny, but isn’t very heavy or long and he doesn’t really know how to use it. The rabbit jumps to her right, his left, bounces off a convenient wall, and lands behind him. He’s slow turning around, so she jumps again, lands on his back, and gives him a strong, two footed kick. He sprawls forward and the rabbit lands not far away, but now she’s between the two rams. 

The other sheep is named Louis. He just stands there a moment, so the cop moves to her left and identifies herself again. “I am officer Hopps. Turn around and put your paws behind your head.“ He isn’t interested in hearing what he needs to do or communicating verbally, so he pulls a knife out of his clothes before rushing. The rabbit jumps away and then takes a moment to check on the other one. He’s still on the ground, so she’s free to concentrate on this one. 

Louis is also right handed, and faster than Lonnie, but he tries to slash with the knife and grapple with the other hand at the same time, both without success. He’s not a very experienced fighter and not used to fighting something small and fast. The rabbit easily avoids him and manages to get close enough to his left knee to place a kick. He collapses and she jumps clear, and then spends some time deciding if the fight is over after coming to rest again. 

It is. Both assailants are on the ground, and one is rocking back and forth using both hoofs to hold his injured knee. 

The fox has seen her fighting style now. She seems to be self-taught because they don't teach aerial styles of fighting like that at the Police Academy, and he doesn’t know what sort of weapons skills she might have because she didn't use any, including her fox spray, today. He’ll have to remember not to stand still if he ever does have to fight her. But now, he has to make sure he’s not caught with any improvised weapons, so he drops his knives after wiping his prints with the tail of his shirt. Mammals always wonder why he dresses like a slob and keeps his hands in his pockets. Lots of room for objects in his pockets and in the folds of loose clothing.

Now that the fight is over, the cop concentrates on the next priority.

She walks over and kicks the rams' knives out their reach. Louis is not in immediate danger, so she doesn’t move him, and then checks on the other one. He's still breathing and she can hear his heart beating, but he’s apparently out cold. She pulls out her radio and finishes calling it in while keeping an eye on things. She sees Nick and winks at him to let him know that everything is going to be OK. 

Nick, amazed, thinks, 'she's flirting with me?' He's been propositioned by females before, but not recently, and he wasn't expecting it from this female, at this time. It was usually after a vixen has seen him fight, and that usually at a bar or club or whatever when he was not under orders and probably should not have gotten involved anyway. 

She then escorts him out of the crime scene to a curb while he does his ‘I’m in shock’ routine like any good citizen would. 

He knows she’s been trained to expect this reaction because he's read several Police Academy text books and he’s done this before, so he knows how he needs to react. He usually tries to not be around when the cops arrive, of course, but now he’s apparently the victim of an attempted robbery and she’s definitely a new cop. She doesn’t pat him down or question him about what he was doing here or why those sheep were trying to assault him. 

Other cops show up and he recognizes some of them. One or two recognize him, but he doesn’t have any outstanding warrants, so he should be OK. Then he notices the cat talking to Officer Hopps, and reminds myself that cursing aloud would be a bad idea. Rabbits have good ears, after all. 

Delgato, that’s his name. He points the bunny to a cruiser and she salutes him and then jog / hops to the cruiser, for all appearances happy. The big cat sighs, and the fox reminds himself that he doesn’t fight cops, especially when they’ve seen / smelled him and he’s out numbered this badly. 

“OK, fox, what are you calling yourself and what did you do?” Delgato asks. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Nick replies. He can appear to be less fearful now that Hopps is not watching or listening. He’s wearing the usual scent block, but hasn’t dyed his fur today and not many foxes in Zootopia dress the way he does.

“Sure, whatever,” the cat says, grinning and showing his teeth, one predator to another. The big cat’s scent and body language say he’s ready to fight, and he knows the fox won't fight him. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“I’m William Sternfang and these sheep were apparently angry because I refused to help them rob a bank last Wednesday,” Nick tells him, emphasizing the words ‘these sheep’. “I was supposed to drive the getaway car, but I left it parked by a fire hydrant over on Third Street by that Panny Bread place. This was just after 5 PM and I may have left the keys in it. The car was a dark blue Impala sedan. Not sure what year model,” the fox tells the tiger. He’s taking notes and he’ll be checking the story, but the fox doesn't really care. He just needs to look and sound like an honest mammal. 

The rest of the questions are standard until the last one. “In your opinion, did Officer Hopps use excessive force?”

‘Now what kind of dumbass question is that?’ He wonders. He’s never actually seen a cop use anything that another cop would call excessive force, even when it was. They’re mammals like everyone else, and they get mad if you hurt them or their friends. When they’re mad, they take it out on you. In any case, Nick has always thought the right amount of force to use during a fight was determined by how fast you needed to win, so it’s not like he really blames them unless he’s the one getting the beating at the time. Now, however, Nick has to think like an honest citizen so he tries to put some outrage in his reply. 

“No, absolutely not.” Then he wonders what the big cat would have done had the fox said yes? Probably just written down ‘no.’ 

This seems to satisfy the cat, so he leaves the fox alone and the fox wonders, again, if he should just sneak away. 'No, I need to stay because an honest citizen probably would wait around until released,' he thinks. 

The last cop to leave is the rabbit.

"Thanks for saving my life," the fox says, like an honest citizen of the great city of Zootopia.

"That's what we do at the ZPD," she replies, and asks the fox if he needs a ride home. It’s a nice gesture, but also a good way to verify the fox's home address information, so he declines and texts Finn instead.

Finn arrives and ignores the rabbit. He really doesn’t like cops because he’s seen so many corrupt ones. Nick is younger and has seen both good and bad ones, and so he tends to think of them as good or bad based on contract terms. That is, how much he has to pay them, and if they give him good value for his money? That’s a good cop, or an honest one at least. That’s what really matters. 

The foxes know the sheep work for someone in the mayor’s office and so the politicians must be getting worried about Nick causing trouble. Now he knows that they won’t leave him out of the power struggles, but at least the other one hasn’t tried to sick his wolf goons on him yet. 'Not that it would work, but then, maybe he doesn't realize how much I know?' 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Experimenting with third person here. I tend to prefer first person....


	5. The Foxes see the Bunny again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Wilde has some adventures and gains some insight about cops when Officer Hopps asks for a favor. It's been several days since Jumbo Pop.

It's a beautiful Thursday morning in Zootopolis when I see the bunny cop again. Actually, I hear that joke mobile of hers first, and then see her when I look over my left shoulder. I’ve got Flynn with me this time while we make our rounds, and he’s asleep, or pretending to be asleep, in the baby carriage I’m pushing.

“Hello Nick” she greets me. She emphasizes my name slightly for some reason, but I’m not sure why. 

“Hey, it’s officer bunny rabbit,” I reply, and keep pushing. I don’t really want to talk to her, but she’s too cute for me to dismiss quickly. 

“I need your help with a case.”

Why? Because you think I owe you for saving my life? You didn’t. “What happened? Someone steal a traffic cone? It wasn’t me.”

She pulls that ridiculous trike thing in front of us, and I stop. She gets out and shows me a picture from a folder she’s carrying. She’s got the picture in one paw and some sort of carrot shaped pen in the other, with the folder. Her ears are up and focused on me. She looks, and smells, eager.

Now I’m just getting annoyed. “Time is money, Bunny. Hop along.”

“Please, could you just look at the picture? Do you know this mammal?” She’s less eager now, but still pushing the picture at me. 

“Fine,” I reply and look at the picture. “I know everybody. That’s Emitt Otterton. He was a florist over on Mustelidae Street.”

“Do you know where he is now?”

“What? I know where he was going when I last saw him, but that was several weeks ago.”

“Fine. We can start there.”

“We? What’s this we thing? I’ve got things to do that don’t involve stalking an otter.”

“I’m sure your $10 a day schemes can wait a little while.”

“$10 a day? What schemes? I make way more than that.”

“$15?”

I know she’s taunting me, but I can’t seem to stop myself. “Depends. I've actually averaged something like $200 bucks a day for several years now,” I reply. I don’t add ‘before taxes’ because she’s got to know I’m talking about gross not net-

“William Sternfang, I have a copy of your tax records, so I know you didn't pay any, so you’re under arrest for felony tax evasion,” the rabbit says and pushes a button on the carrot shaped pen. It’s a recorder and she thinks I just confessed. I very briefly wonder what other carrot shaped devices she might have? Probably a tooth brush and possibly… Never mind that. "Unless you want to help me instead."

I almost ask who Sternfang is, but then I remember the name I gave that feline cop the other night. 

Flynn and I could just leave, or I could tell her just what she can do with that carrot shaped pen, and then leave. Then I realize something. A friend on the police force would be very useful to my friends and me. Whatever her problem is, it probably won’t take long to sort out and Flynn doesn't really need me anyway. Being a good citizen and actually helping the cops rather than ignoring / impeding them might not be so bad. 

She sees me hesitating, obviously thinking, so she starts grinning. “It’s called a hustle, sweetheart,” she says.

“You going to arrest me or tell me what you want me to do for you? I’ve never actually helped the police before, so why don’t you explain the rules?”

“You’re going to help me find this poor missing otter.”

“OK, Carrots. I think he-“

“She hustled you into working with members of law enforcement? That’s going to cause a stir at home,” a new voice enters the conversation. It’s Flynn and he’s awake. Just what I need now. 

“Don’t you start!” I tell him, but without much enthusiasm.

He rolls back the cover of the baby carrier and hunts around until he finds the Jr. Police sticker Officer Bunny Rabbit gave to his brother, Finn, earlier this week, and then sticks it to my shirt. “You’re going to need this! Have fun working with the fuzzy bunny!” Then, laughing, he jumps off the carrier, takes the handle from my unresisting paws, and walks away. 

The rabbit looks at Flynn oddly, but then shrugs. “You were saying?” she asks me. She’s got that carrot thing pointed at me again, and I resist the urge to grab it. Then I remember where the otter was going and can’t help smiling. 

“It’s not the kind of place a cute little bunny would feel comfortable,” I tell her. She really isn’t all that little or fuzzy and maybe somewhat on the tall side for a bunny, but she is definitely cute. I wonder if she has some hare genes.

“Don’t call me cute. Hop in the car,” she says and then frowns. 

“Isn’t that my line? And are you sure that’s a car?” Yes, this might be fun after all. 

“Where are we going and what kind of place is it, anyway?”

“You’ll see,” I tell her. Probably way more than you want to.

We spend the next ten minutes or so in more or less tense silence. She drives and I periodically give her directions by pointing. Whenever I can, I point with my arm blocking her view of the road just to be more annoying. 

“You better not be taking me around in circles,” she says, trying to growl. She’s doesn't really have the teeth for that sort of thing, so it doesn’t work all that well, but I’ve seen her fight so I have to take her seriously. 

“We’re here. Pull over. You know, I’ve always wanted to say that to a cop!”

She looks around and then back at me suspiciously, but gets out of the trike and follows me through the door and into a dark interior of the naturalist club.

Thirty minutes later, we’re back out on the street again. 

“Well, I had a blast! The expressions on your face and the way you kept trying to both see and not see all that bare fur! Warms my tiny little heart,” I tell the bunny. Her eyes are still wide and her ears are now up and no longer covering part of her face, but also a little off kilter. She seems a little dazed by the visual education. As for me, I’m disappointed that Yancy the Yak didn’t make us both disrobe before taking us back to see the yoga instructor. Now that would have made anything else I had to do well worth the time! 

Now that I think about it, I don’t actually go to the Oasis very often. As a member of the canidae family, I can get scent clues other mammals, like rabbits, tend to get through sight or sound, so it’s not as much fun for me most of the time. 

“I can’t run the plate,“ she says suddenly, pulling me out of my fantasies. “I don’t have a desk or proper police cruiser, and this trike doesn’t have the right equipment.”

“What? Any moron can run a plate. I know at least three guys that-“ Too late, I realize my mistake. 

“Could you put me in touch with one of your morons and ask them to help?”

“You can’t keep me on the hook forever,” I whine at her like a con-mammal caught between wanting to be lazy and not wanting to go to jail. I’m having way too much fun to stop now, but I still feel like I need to play the part she expects. The type of mammal I'm impersonating now does not dig in and work when he gets stuck. He whines and tries to get other mammals to get him out of the mess he got himself into. In this case, I’m trying to get this cop to let me go, and I know she won’t, so we’ll bargain for terms. 

“Not forever. Just a couple of days or until I get a major break in the case. In either case, this time day after tomorrow, you’re free, OK?” she asks and puts out her paw to shake. 

I stare at it a moment before remembering the hand shake thing is fairly common where she's from. Here in the city, a more appropriate gesture between predators would be some sort of submission ritual like moving my chin up to show my neck to let her know I'll do what she says. A submissive predator used to have to roll over and show his or her belly in this sort of situation, but she’ll settle for a handshake this morning, so I take her paw and grip it with the appropriate strength. It’s surprisingly warm and fuzzy. Not too strong and no claws, of course. She smells very good.

“I’ll take you to see a friend of mine at the Department of Mammal Vehicles.” We get back in her trike and we’re off to see a sloth. 

She keeps her eyes on the road and doesn’t seem to be interested in talking to me while we're on our way, so I start to think about what she’s getting out of this. Is the otter’s wife or family paying her to find him? I’m not really getting that impression. In fact, I’m getting a kind of ‘good cop just doing my job’ vibe from her. 

A good prey cop, and a small one at that? I haven’t met very many good ones. They all want something or they can’t help. How many times have predator friends of mine told me the police can’t do anything? If I had a buck for every time I heard how they have no leads or whatever… Well, I guess I do have some of the bucks because I usually end up helping and not for free most of the time, but you get the picture. 

I know how to get prey cops to help me. Give them some cash, and they get more agreeable. Suddenly there are less excuses and more leads. It’s funny, really. They have all those databases and all that organization behind them. Need to run a plate? No problem for them. Need to get a look inside a locked warehouse or business? Again, no problem. All that costs money, and it’s worth money as well. Some know this all too well, and won’t let people that aren’t cops near it. This cop? She's not one of us, but maybe she’s different. 

I’d really like to know why she’s doing this, but I don’t think she’ll just come right out and tell me. Maybe I’ll learn if I can get her talking. “How did you get this case?”

She replies without taking her eyes off the road in front of her. We aren’t going very fast at the moment, but she keeps both paws on the wheel at all times in the approved 10 and 2 o'clock positions, and only acknowledges me by swiveling her ears my way. “I asked for it,” she says proudly. “Mrs. Otterton came to the office earlier this week and showed the chief the picture of her missing husband while I happened to be there discussing a recent botanical theft and my pursuit of the fugitive. Chief couldn’t do anything because the ZPD only has so many mammals and all of them were busy. I considered volunteering with Mrs Otterton present and then asking permission later, but quickly abandoned that idea.”

Smart. Your chief would NOT have liked you putting him in a corner like that. Resource allocation is the job of the boss, not the underlings. Had you done something like that to me, I would have fired you for certain unless you made an extremely convincing case that involved something like you doing it on your own time and giving me most of whatever cash you were getting. 

“Anyway, I picked my moment yesterday when he was in a good mood and volunteered. He let me take the case, but made me promise to write parking tickets as well. That’s why I have to drive this thing. And why I’m so grateful that I have you helping me!”

“So… how much is she paying you and what is your chief’s cut?” Of course, she might not know how much he’s getting, and if not, she probably won't admit it. 

“What?” now her ears are slanted odd and she smells different. She pulls over, stops the trike, and looks at me, so I continue.

“What are you and your chief getting out of this? Mrs. Otterton knows someone at City Hall and called in a marker? She take out a loan against her business and gave the money to you? She probably didn’t give it to your chief if you had to volunteer....”

Several expressions crossed her face while she thought about what I had asked and said. Confusion, initially. Then a kind of shock, then uncertainty, and finally, anger. I expected her to tell me to mind my own business, which would mean she didn’t want to share because she thinks she’s got me under the tax evasion thing. I’ve heard the ‘none of your business’ line before. They usually tell me eventually so they can brag, if for no other reason. 

But that’s not what she says. “Pay? Pay? This is my job, you… you… fox! I get paid by the city and the taxpayers, like Mrs. Otterton. Same with the chief.” She started out talking low, but got louder and louder. “We Don’t Take Bribes!” She nearly shouted that last. 

Right. That’s why you’re so angry about it. You know it happens, but you… don’t like it? Strange. 

“Oh, sorry, sorry. Of course it doesn’t happen. My mistake,” I say, trying to calm her down. Apparently she’s an idealistic rookie. I really should have expected that after the ice cream shop encounter. I wonder how long her positive attitude will last? 

She gets back on the road and we drive the rest of the way to the Department of Mammal Vehicles, or DMV, in silence. I start to get out after she parks, but she puts one of her paws on my arm. 

“Cops don’t take money on the table,” she says. 

“That’s 'under' the table, and I suspect you’d be surprised.” I think she means ‘good cops don’t take money,’ but I don’t correct her. 

She doesn't seem to want to discuss it, so she shakes her head and we walk into the DMV. There’s a line, but I know a guy, so we go immediately to his window and I give him the number and the ‘all clear’ signal, and we get the address within ten minutes. Officer Hopps is ecstatic, but I’m less pleased because I’ve been to this address. Not recently, but I know who owns it. 

She’s already at her cart by the time I get out the doors of the DMV, and she can tell something is wrong. “Will? What is it?”

You don’t know my real name, for one thing. “Tundratown Limo”, I tell her, motioning to the paper with the name and address. “I can’t go there. The owner, Mr. Big, has an arrangement with my boss. Big doesn’t send his polar bears looking for us and we don’t go to his places of business, looking for him. “

“Mr. Big?”

“Yeah. Crime boss in Tundratown. Chief Bogo really didn’t fill you in, did he? Every eco system or separate area has a boss. Downtown is kind of like neutral territory.” 

“He doesn’t like you?” She asks. Again she’s got that ‘solving a puzzle’ look. I saw it before when she was talking about running, or not being able to run, a license plate. This might be what she’s getting out of this… She likes puzzles, and this is a puzzle. Maybe the Ottertons really aren’t paying her? 

“We have an understanding. One of my associates may have sold him a rug made from the butt of a skunk, and Big may have iced that associate instead of coming to us to lodge a complaint. In exchange, my friends and I may have skinned a polar bear or two after we found our friend's frozen body, but before we realized how seriously he had offended Big. Had Big come to us, we would have handled things in house and made proper restitution, but now it was too late. Nobody wanted a war, so a truce was brokered by the Rainforest boss. The result is that my associates and I avoid his properties in Tundratown and he and his bears avoid Foxhollow. They also tend to avoid Downtown, but that's another story.” Big never cared about hot and dry Downtown anyway. Only his daughter, Fru-fru, ever comes here, and shopping family members, especially the ones with no weapons or combat training, are off limits as far as I’m concerned.

I could see she thought I was joking. “Iced? Skinned? What sort of euphemisms are those?” 

Killed. Murdered and dumped in a lake. “Roughed up,” I tell her. 

“That shouldn’t happen. Why didn’t you let the police handle it?”

I remind myself that she thinks all the cops in Zootopia are honest and serve the public good, even when that public might include predators. “Eh. Better to handle this sort of thing quietly. Police got better things to deal with. More important things like finding Mr. Otterton,” I tell her. The bribes for the cops would have been more expensive than the way we did handle it, even if I did make a mistake. Also, I never like other people doing my job, which was part of the reason it almost came to a war. 

We’ve been standing near her trike talking, but now she gets in. “I’ve got to follow this lead, so I’m going to Tundratown Limo. Thanks for your help, Will.”

“Please call me Nick,” I tell her and hand her a business card. 

“Thanks,” she says, before taking the card, staring at it a moment, and putting it in one of the many pockets she seems to have. Then she gets in her trike and drives away. I wonder, and not for the first time, why she isn’t using public transportation more often? It’s free and probably faster than that… whatever it is she’s in. 

That was fun. I wonder how and when she’ll find Mr. Otterton?

I send Flynn a text, but get no reply, so I take a bus back to the airfield to get some lunch and then I get some exercise in one of the hangers. Finn is there, of course, and he looks rather pointedly at his watch and then at me. I just shrug and get on one of the many fox sized treadmills. 

A few hours later I get a text from Judy. “Going to see the limo driver in Rainforest. Come with or meet there?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I got tired of third person point of view and switched to first person. I just really like the way this came out when I was doing it in Nick's voice and with his thoughts directly.


	6. Savage cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Nick didn't run from Mr. Manchas? This is my version....

So, I get cleaned up and then take the tram line to Vine, at Tajunga, and meet Officer Hopps as the sun is going down. She’s still in uniform, of course. We’re going to see the jaguar, Mr. Manchas, at home, and for her it’s official police business. 

It’s an impressive habitat. Mostly off the ground, with vines and ropes and such all over the place, and dirigibles to move freight and trams to move passengers like me. The houses remind me of the treehouses I used to think about when I wanted to be a Jr. Ranger Scout. I also remember who the boss is here, but he doesn’t dislike me. 

We cross another rope bridge and then the rabbit rings the big cat’s doorbell. There is no immediate reply, so Judy says “Mr. Manchas? I’m Officer Judy Hopps with the ZPD. We just want to talk to you about what happened to Mr. Otterton.”

The cat opens the door a little way and says “You should be asking what happened to me!” and yanks the door open far enough for the rabbit and me to see him fully. He’s got scars on his face, and one eye is shut. He’s wearing a white t-shirt and black slacks, and no shoes. Some fashionable mammals wear shoes, but not here and not this cat. 

“A tiny otter did that to you?”

“He was a savage! Down on all fours. Ripping and clawing at the car interior. I looked at him and he did this to me!” Now he points at his face. “He just kept shouting about ‘the night howlers’ over and over again. I pulled over as soon as I could and got out of the car. The last things I saw were his glowing eyes before he turned and ran off into the woods.”

“The night howlers?” I ask and look at Judy. She shrugs, so I continue “Good, that’s good. Because that’s what we’re here to talk to you about. So, you let us in, and we’ll tell you what we know and you tell us what you know, Ok?”

“OK,” the cat says, after thinking about it for a bit. He closes the door. 

“Smart fox,” Carrots says as we hear a crash and some sort grunting from inside the house. “Mr. Manchas? Are you OK?” 

I doubt it, so I take a step away from the door. Judy gets closer to the door, apparently trying to see inside or get a better sound impression. She opens the door, and, judging by the look on her face, she doesn’t like what she sees and hears. I can hear it also, now. It sounds very much like some one, or some thing, stumbling around and knocking over furniture. 

“Run!” she orders me, as she closes the door, and before she takes off toward the rope bridge we crossed to get here. I dodge to the left, and reach behind me for my pistol instead. 

The door shatters and I see the big, black cat, now down on all fours and facing away from me, pause very briefly in front of me, looking at the rabbit and the rope bridge. If he turns to fight right now, I’m dead because I’m too close, but he apparently doesn’t notice me. He springs forward as I bring the tranq gun around from behind my back. 

I let him get halfway to the bridge and shout, “Hey!” He stops, turning his savage eyes back toward me, and I put a dart in his rear flank, on the right side. He snarls and turns around, preparing to leap back toward me. I put another dart in him and hope the drug is as good as the guy who sold it to me claims. “Knock a lion on his ass in two seconds!” as he put it. 

The cat prepares to leap and then pauses. He starts to walk toward me, still on four paws, but then gets an odd look on his face and collapses, not far from me. I keep the pistol pointed at him as the rabbit comes back across the bridge. She gives the cat plenty of room as she rejoins me near the house. The cat is making an odd noise and seems to be pawing the ground. 

“Restrain him, will you? I’ll cover you,” I tell the rabbit. She looks at me a little oddly, but then she cuffs him, and I don’t need to shoot again. 

She hesitates, looking at the jungle cat. “I didn’t know you had one of those guns,” she comments. “He’s out. Breathing and heart rate have slowed back down to less than what they were when he opened the door.”

“I didn’t know you could hear that well,” I reply. I wave the gun. “Not many predators have these. You have to pass all sorts of tests and pay a truly ridiculous number of bribes, but yes, it’s legal, which is probably what you were really wondering. And I didn’t know you had those cuffs." 

“Well, what did you think I was carrying? I AM a real cop, you know,” she says as I reload and put my pistol back in the holster behind my back and under the tail of my shirt. 

We’re each looking closely at the sleeping cat. The differences between now and when we first saw him are the purple stain on his neck and mud on his clothes. Judy leans down to get a closer look at the purple stain.

“Don’t touch it! That’s probably what made him crazy.”

“What? How?” she replies, but doesn’t get any closer. 

“Well, what else caused it? Sane and normal and talking to us one minute, and then this. Only one difference, and that’s the purple stuff. Deductive reasoning," I tell her. I know I sound like I'm showing off, but I can't seem to stop myself. "What’s that purple stuff smell like to you?”

“Isn’t it inductive reasoning? Also, you’re the canine with the good nose. I’m the lepo with the good ears. You tell me what it smells like.”

You’ve also got a nice- and again I have to not say what I’m thinking. “Umm, it smells like a vegetable. Not a fruit because it’s not sweet enough. Sweet, but more earthy. Like a flower, but I have no idea which one. Purple one based on the color.” As I say this, I look across the bridge at the road. There are some cars there, but no one seems to be paying any attention to us and none of them stop. 

“I’m going to call it in. We need to get Mr. Manchas into custody and we need to figure out what that stuff is.” She gets a sample with a piece of wood and puts it in one of the many transparent bags she’s got. She’s careful not to touch it, but does try to smell it, apparently without result. 

“Right,” I reply as she uses her radio. There will be more cops here soon, so I prepare to meet them. I’d like to have my pistol trained on Manchas, but I would also like to not get shot by the cops when they show up if they see me, a predator, with a weapon displayed. Instead, I get my ID card and weapons card out of my wallet and wait. 

Judy finishes calling it in and goes back into the house to look around. “If they take too long, I may have to use another dart, and I really don’t want to do that,” I call toward the house. She doesn’t reply, but I could have just said it in a normal voice and she would probably have heard me. Rabbit ears. 

We hear the sirens and see the police cars stop on the other side of the bridge. A large buffalo gets out of one of the cars, crosses his arms, and says something. Then he points and says something else and the cops cross the bridge toward us. Judy’s in uniform and that should be enough, but this is a tense situation and SOP apparently involves clear identification so she makes sure they can see her. She’s very by the book, that way. 

She doesn’t wait for the buffalo to get all the way across the bridge before beginning her report. “This jaguar went savage. We were talking to him at his house-“

The chief interrupts her. “This isn’t the stone age, Hopps. Mammals don’t go savage,” he says, but now he’s across the bridge and examining the physical evidence. 

Jaguar on the ground, cuffed, with two tranq darts in him. One dart in the front and one in the rear, as if either the shooter was circling the target, or the target was turning. Paw marks on the wet ground between the house and the bridge and then back toward the current location of the big cat. Wet paws on the cat, both front and rear. Pants legs muddy, but only on the front and low toward the ground. Shattered door. 

“You,” the chief says, pointing at me. “Got a permit for the gun?” He sounds mildly curious, but the other cops around him shift uncomfortably. He knows Judy didn’t dart the cat because she doesn't have a pistol, so I must have done it. They’ll arrest me if I give them any sort of reason, of course, so I have to be careful. 

“Right here,” I reply, moving the paw with the cards slightly to draw attention. I don’t move toward him because this is a tense situation and, from what I’ve seen, cops tend to want to control everything in a situation like this. 

Bogo makes a ‘come here’ motion and I approach and hand him my cards. He’s a large buffalo, and I’m only a medium sized fox, so he has to lean down slightly to take the cards or I have to reach up. I know what he’s thinking, so I’m keeping my own movements slow and easy, and my paws in plain view. He knows I’ve still got the pistol. 

“Give it,” he says now, and I reach behind my back with my left paw, grip the handle with two fingers, pull it out, and hand it over. At no time do I allow the barrel to come horizontal or point anywhere near the buffalo or any other officer. I could still shoot him with my left paw, but then I’d get buried under the other cops before I could escape. 

The buffalo just grabs the pistol, which looks very small in his hoofs, and then examines it quickly and efficiently. He clears the weapon and then very obviously compares the serial number with my card. It’s right. This is not one of my unlicensed guns. He safes the weapon. 

He grunts and hands the weapon and the cards to one of his officers, this one a rhino. There are also big cats and elephants. I realize, now, that Bogo is one of those ‘bigger is better’ kind of mammals, and Judy is truly unique as a cop here. She’s even smaller than me. The jaguar is nearly Bogo’s size, and is at least as big as one of the lions he’s got with him. 

“May I?” 

The buffalo grunts again, and says to the rhino, “Give him the cards. He can have the pistol back if he promises not to draw it again for at least a few hours.”

“Right, chief,” the rhino replies and gives me back my cards and then my weapon. I put the cards in my pocket and the pistol back in the holster behind my back. I’ll put a dart back in the chamber later, when I’m not being watched.

“Chief, the jaguar-“ again Officer Hopps tries to report and again the chief interrupts her. 

The buffalo stops her with a hand gesture, points at the rhino cop, and then at the sleeping, but apparently stirring, cat on the ground. The rhino nods and moves to stand near the cat, as another officer returns to the cars, probably to get a net.

I relax slighlty now that I know the big cat isn’t going to jump up, maul someone, probably me or Judy, and then run off. Now, I just have to worry about the cops with Bogo. For her part, Judy waits for the chief to give her more instructions. She’s the first responder, and her duty is to inform higher authority as soon as possible. To ‘sound the alarm’ in other words, but the buffalo already knows everything he needs to know. He points to one of the cruisers on the other side of the bridge. 

“Fill out your report. Be brief. Be honest. By the book,” he tells her. “I read the other one. Do this one the same way.”

The rabbit salutes and, smiling, jog / hops across the bridge, narrowly missing the officer coming back with a net. The buffalo is turned away from me watching her, so I can’t see his face, but I can see a kind of shift in his body language when he’s watching her and a change in his scent that I can’t quite identify. He doesn’t shift his weight again until he’s ready to turn around, but I still get a definite impression of uncertainty as he turns to me. 

“So? You shot him twice?” he asks. 

He can see the darts, so he’s just making conversation, and probably wants more information, so I give it to him. “Yes. We had been talking to him at the door of his house, then he closed the door, screamed, Judy opened the door partway, and he comes out on all fours. I dodge left, Judy shouts, ‘Run’, and she goes for the bridge. Cat gives chase. I shout to make him pause, cat stops, and I dart him twice as he turns,” I tell him, while gesturing at the relevant locations. 

This is the crucial moment. Judy is the only friend I have here, and he’s just sent her away. He may decide I acted improperly. Both the cat and I are predators, and the buffalo is not, so that may be a point in my favor. The herbivore buffalo may decide he doesn’t care what those cat and dog carnivores do to each other. 

“I can see that. Good shooting,” the buffalo says. I notice several of his officers shift, apparently surprised, when Bogo says this. Mr. Manchas takes this opportunity to open his eyes and growl. 

The jaguar tries to get up, breaking his restraints, and gets three of his legs under him before the rhino gets the net over him. This causes the cat to struggle even more, and look even more savage. He’s not trying to talk to us; he’s just growling, and clawing and biting at the net. 

“Dart him!” Bogo orders. “Not you, Wilde.” I’m not stupid, so I didn’t have my paws anywhere near my gun.

One of the cops darts the cat, who collapses, as Judy comes back across the bridge. “What a mess,” the buffalo says, stomping over to the house to see why his officers aren’t done with the scene yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm trying to make this story more exciting, so I may end up with one fight per chapter. Maybe not the next chapter...


	7. Tram and bus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick and Judy talk

“Officer Hopps,” the fox says opening the door to the tram, and gestures to invite his rabbit companion forward into the lighted car. He gets in after her, closes the door, and stands to her left and faces forward, as the car moves south toward downtown.

“Thanks,” Judy replies. Several hours have passed, and the sun has gone down. The jaguar has been moved to a holding cell downtown, and the rabbit and the fox have been spending most of their time waiting to be released by Chief Bogo. 

There are no seats in the car, but at least it’s sized correctly for medium sized mammals like foxes and rabbits. Elephant and hippo sized tram cars are possible for a ride for smaller mammals, but not very comfortable. Mouse size are impossible for any mammal larger than a squirrel. 

They ride along in silence for a few minutes. Judy thinking about Mr. Manchas, and Nick not really thinking about anything in particular. The fox is watching the world go by, hoping to be back in his den, and asleep, in the next few hours. 

“Nick?” 

“Yeah, Carrots?” he replies, backing up slightly and turning toward her. They’re both about the same height, but the rabbit’s ears are much taller, and the fox out masses the rabbit by 50-60%. He’s a predator and she’s prey, but neither one is particularly interested in staying within the roles imposed on them by society. Who you are born does not make you how you are, unless you allow it. 

“What happened to you?” 

“What? When?” The fox asks, confused. 

“When you were younger. You’re very cynical now. Not very trusting of other mammals. You seem to be always ready to fight, and I get the impression that dealing with irate police officers is something you’ve done before, based on your interactions with the chief.”

“Younger?” the fox says aloud, stalling. He wonders what Judy really wants to know. “The usual fox stuff. School when I had to, job when I was old enough. Army after that, and various odd jobs. Now I’m helping the ZPD solve crimes. Maybe I should become a cop?”

The rabbit knows he’s not serious, but replies as if he was. “You’d probably be pretty good at it, you know.”

“I’d be damned good at it, Carrots,” the fox replies. He doesn’t look at her, but continues to stare out the front of the car. “I know all sorts of things, and other predators talk to me because they know I know things. I know who does what and when and with whom to speak if you need something fast with no questions. Am I willing to share that information with the authorities? No, no I am not. Also, there is no way I could pass the background check.”

“You’ve got a tranq gun, so you must be able to pass some background scrutiny.”

“Some, but not much. To get the gun, I mostly had to prove I needed it, and be willing to pay one of those guys you need to speak to when you need something with no questions asked. Not cheap, but worth it tonight.”

The rabbit is silent a little while. Then, “Are you going to tell me?” the rabbit asks.

The fox has been expecting this for several minutes, but still does not wish to answer.

“Some sort of childhood trauma, I expect? I’ve read about-“

“Yes, you read about it in a book!” the fox replies. “Reading a book about flying does not make you a pilot. You have to experience it.” He moves away from her slightly, but does not turn away. His ears are back, but not far, and his paws are tight on the rail of the car. 

“You could be a pilot,” Judy replies. Not quickly, but with an obvious effort to be non-confrontational. “Or I could be one. I’d read a book first and then talk to pilot or two. Maybe I could find someone to teach me?”

The rabbit hears the fox’s indrawn breath and then his sigh. She knows he’s trying to decide how much to trust her by taking in her scent and he’ll smell curiosity. She hopes he won’t smell any hint of condemnation or judgment. 

He turns all the way around in the car, with his back facing the direction of travel, and still does not meet her eyes. “Childhood trauma, yes. In time, I have been assured that the effect will fade unless it’s re-enforced. I read books too.” He smiles in the approved prey manner, without showing his sharp teeth. His ears are all the way back up and his posture is more open. His paws no longer grip the railing. 

“I was eight or nine, and I wanted to be a Junior Ranger scout. My mom got the money for my new uniform from somewhere so I’d be as well prepared as possible for my first meeting. We didn’t have much and dad had already left by then. I was young and clueless about the way some mammals interact.”

“Anyway, I memorized the speech you have to give about being selfless and loyal or whatever and so I was ready when they surrounded me and asked me to recite. They turned off the lights and put the spotlight on me, and I figured it was an initiation ritual until they put the muzzle on. I kept asking them what I did wrong and they said it was because I was a predator. They were all prey, you understand. 

“I thought it was a gang thing, you know? They want to know how tough you are, so they beat on you awhile, but then accept you because you let them beat on you. You pass their test. They did the beating, but not the accepting. I don’t remember much, but apparently the cops found me wandering the streets later with abrasions on my head and a torn uniform. I never went back, of course.”

“I’m sorry, Nick. I’m so very sorry.” 

“It was like I had a ‘kick me’ sign on my back at school after that. I guess I started expecting other mammals my age to abuse me and so they did. Well, not all of them, but enough. Most just ignored me, glad that someone else was getting that negative attention. I suspect I was manifesting the sort of obvious self loathing that draws attack like moths to a flame.” Now he paused, remembering. 

“So, you’re not like that now? If anything, you’re over confident. What changed?”

“I found something I was good at. Remember what you said about finding a pilot to teach you to fly? That’s what I did, or he found me, anyway.” 

They were silent again, and then Judy said, “I’ve done more than just read a book.”

“Oh?” the fox asked, and looked at the rabbit on his left. 

“I was attacked by a fox when I was about the same age that you were in the Ranger Scouts. Injuries were mostly superficial. Some scars, mostly on my belly. I would show you, but I don’t know you well enough.” Now she’s grinning at him. 

“Heh, yeah. We could compare scars like in the movies! I’d win with more scars, and then we’d end up banging,” he grins at her again. Now he’s far more relaxed. 

“In your dreams, slick.” 

The rabbit and the fox get off the tram at a downtown interchange. The rabbit gets a phone call as the fox prepares to find his bus. The fox pauses, but stays outside the camera view in case she wants to do this Muzzletime. 

Nick looks a question at Judy, but she just says, “It’s my parents.” This does not appear to be a dismissal and his bus isn’t here yet, so he waits. Judy sees him, but doesn’t turn away or open the distance. 

She hits the call accept button on her phone. “Hey, you guys!” she says with an exaggerated voice Nick has not heard from her before. Her ears are fully up and she’s looking extra happy.

“Hey, Jude,” Nick hears a female voice, probably Judy’s mother. “We’re just calling to check on you. Still doing the meter maid thing?”

“Yep. Actually, just getting off work now and preparing to head home.”

“Safest job on the force!” the female voice responds. “No problems with unhappy drivers and parking tickets?”

“Nope, none at all today, but I haven’t issued as many as I usually do.”

Nick is amazed. Here Judy is clearly liing to her parents, probably to make them feel better. He had thought she was more of a straight arrow kind of bunny.

“That’s good to hear.” Now it’s a male voice, probably her father. 

“There’s my bus,” Judy says, turning her head to look directly at Nick. “Gotta go!”

“Love you, bye,” the rabbits say, and the call ends. 

Judy makes sure the phone is off and then lets her ears slump a bit. “Argh. My parents can be just a bit over protective.”

“That’s a good thing, right?” the fox asks. 

“Huh. OK, now that is my bus,” she says. “See you later?”

“Sure bunny,” Nick replies. He would have said yes even if the answer was actually no, but he finds himself looking forward to their next adventure. 

The rabbit gets on her bus, and Nick goes to find his own bus. He puts his paws back in his pockets and adopts his usual ‘don’t mind me I’m just a fox’ slouch.  
*********************  
I take a bus back to the airfield after Judy gets on her bus. Bus rides always give me time to think, and it’s late and dark now, so I don’t bother with the usual sunglasses. 

"I really don’t mind helping her," I mutter to myself, and stare out the window, but I'm not really seeing the buildings pass. 

I have to transfer once, and meet a familiar face on the final bus, #12. 

“Hey Nick,” Flynn greets me. He’s still got the baby carriage, now folded up. He sits next to me in the medium mammals section. He’s smaller than I am, and so we sometimes do the father and son thing like I do with Finn so nobody thinks about what else we might be doing. The main difference is that Flynn is something of a math nerd and Finn is more interested in building things with his own paws, and usually from metal. They’re brothers. 

“Flynn. Haven’t been home yet?” 

“Nah, I wanted to see everyone today so I didn’t have to do it again tomorrow. The job would have been easier if we had worked together….”

“You know I couldn’t talk much in front of the rabbit" I remind him. "I think everyone would agree that having a friend on the police force would be a good long term investment. Also, grandfather expects us middle management types to use our initiative and you never did reply to my messages. Thanks for playing along, by the way!” 

“Is that what you call it? I wasn’t getting that ‘friend on the force’ message from your scent, you know.” 

“Oh? You going to complain?” 

“Calm down, I’m just yanking your chain. Finn told me what happened with Matilda,” he said, and put his paw on my arm, very briefly. "Didn't really need your help anyway." 

We make small talk the rest of the way. I really don’t want to get into technical details here on a public bus, but Flynn is optimistic, so the various investments in the City seem to be doing well. I had been expected to lend a reassuring presence for those mammals that weren’t sure of our commitment, but that hadn’t been necessary after all. 

We arrive at our destination and disembark by the old bridge. It’s dark and we can’t see anyone around. That’s good. I know there is a guard after dark, but he or she doesn’t greet us. That’s bad. I keep my hands in my pockets as usual and wait. We both listen, look, and sample the scents in the air. 

I make a hand signal to Flynn and he just shrugs. His background is academic, not military, so he’ll let me handle whatever is going on. I find the guard easily and stop to look at him from five feet away. 

“Hey,” I say to the sleeping wolf. “Wake up, Barker. Could get some demerits for sleeping out here.”

“Not if you don’t tell on me,” Barker whines. He actually whines, and looks at the ground. “You don’t have to.“

“You’re right, I don’t,” I reply, and rush him. He is totally unprepared for this so I get him backed up against the bridge and put one of my knives under his chin before he can react properly. He stops struggling as soon as he feels it. 

Flynn comes over. “Nick,” he says. 

I back away from Barker as the wolf checks his throat for blood. “Do I have to report this? Have you not learned your lesson?”

The wolf puts his muzzle up and head back in submission. I can smell the mixture of lingering fear and anger as Barker tries to get his breathing back under control. He won’t be going back to sleep on guard duty again. “No, sir,” he says. 

“Fine,” and I walk away, putting my hands back in my pockets. 

“Be more careful next time, right?” I hear Flynn say to the wolf. He’s repairing the young wolf’s hurt feelings because I, literally, jumped on him for screwing up. I note the way the wolf’s scent changes, relaxing a bit. 

“You coming?” I ask Flynn and start walking toward the hanger buildings. He jogs slightly to catch up. 

“Don’t you start,” I say to him, again, when we’re out of Barker’s hearing range. He’s a wolf, not a rabbit or elephant, so I don’t have to be as careful. 

“Hey, I’m not the one taking out my frustration on a sleepy guard,” Flynn replies. “Want to talk about it?”

“Stay after you make your report and you can hear what I have to say,” I tell him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> experimenting with some third and then first person point of view. Also, working on introducing the wider world around this story.


	8. Meeting the Weasel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They know who to talk to about night howlers, or Judy does anyway, and Nick knows where to find him.

Judy and I meet the next day, Friday, in the park downtown. It’s 9AM and she has clearly been awake a few hours. I had only just recently hauled my tail out of bed and then napped on the bus, and the contrasts between the ways we look are striking.

“Good morning, Nick!” she says, by way of greeting. Her ears are up and she has, literally, a bounce in her step. 

“Right. Morning,” I reply, drinking from a bottle of soda because I want the caffeine and don’t really like coffee. Also, sodas don’t have to be prepared and then poured into a big, heavy thermos. You just grab and go. I’ve also got the remains of a fresh roll that I grabbed from the cafeteria on the way out. “What makes you so cheerful?” And awake? 

“Several things. First I realized that you’re helping me because you want to, not because you have to. You aren’t Mr. Sternfang, so I can’t turn you in for tax evasion.”

“That’s right. William Sternfang is someone else,” I really hope she doesn’t ask who he might be because I really shouldn’t have used that alias the other day. The problem is that I'm not the only one who might use it. 

We’ve been walking and talking, looking like two friends chatting in the great outdoors. This morning, I notice again how similar we are. I’m taller and heavier, but she’s no midget. With the ears up, she’s only a little shorter than me. The main difference is predator and prey. I’m a predator, by birth, but I don't eat much meat and then only chicken or fish that I buy and didn't hunt. She’s a prey and they eat a great deal of salad. Bunnies used to be eaten by foxes like me, if you can believe the stories. I’m not sure myself, but I know predators have sharp teeth and a like of protein for some reason. Maybe it is part of our biology as the species-ists say. I really don’t think it matters what my ancestors may or may not have done because I don’t eat rabbits. 

“So, what’re we doing now, boss bunny?”

She smiles, happy that I’m still helping out, and shows me a picture on her phone. “Do you know this mammal? He’s a thief I caught with some night howlers bulbs in a bag last week. Pretty sure he was stealing them so he could sell them to somebody. Somebody that we now know probably has something to do with whoever shot Manchas.”

“Actually, I shot Manchas-“

“Nick! You know what I mean,” she says and body checks me or tries to. It's really more of a hip check. 

“Duke Weaselton, by the way. I’m not sure why, but in his family, they all get titles. His mother is named ‘Princess’ If you can believe it.” I tell her. "I think one reason he's still single is because he's having trouble finding a female named Duchess."

"Not the only reason, I expect," she informs me. “You really do know everybody; I didn’t believe you at first. Do you happen to know where he is now?”

Ten minutes later, we’re approaching the corner where the weasel usually hangs out selling boot leg DVD’s. He’s not there, so Judy asks “I don't suppose you know where he lives?”

Another ten minutes later, and I’m pounding on Duke’s apartment door and shouting. “Open up! Don’t make me break down this door!” I seriously doubt I’ll have to do anything like that, and then I get a confirmation text from the rabbit. ‘On the run.’

As expected, the weasel tries to escape by climbing down the fire escape, but the rabbit is waiting at the bottom of the stairs. I wanted to be the there instead of here, but Judy pointed out that I’d be more likely to scare him out of his hole in the wall apartment. He’d know a cop wouldn’t actually break his door without a warrant. He might or might not know we don't have a warrent, but he does have some knowledge of the law, so we wanted to get him out so we didn't have to do any illegal breaking and entering. 

Officer Hopps has him on the ground when I get there. 

“What do you want?” the weasel asks the rabbit, like getting tackled by a cop is a regular thing for him. It probably is, actually. He doesn’t smell afraid because he’s got an arrangement with the ZPD. That is, he gives them information and they don’t beat him or harass him too much. Judy doesn’t know about this arrangement, and Weaselton probably doesn’t know that. I know he’s met her before and today she doesn't have a giant donut, so he probably feels a certain amount of confidence that she won't get too rough.

He sees me and his scent changes. We have no arrangement because I’ve never needed anything from him. Judy won’t rough him up much, but he’s not sure what I might do, especially now that I apparently have a cop working for me. Judy notices the change in Weaselton, probably by his heart rate going up when he sees me, but she just winks at me like we’re playing ‘good bunny cop, bad fox gangster’. If Weaselton doesn’t think it’s a game, then all the better. 

“Nicky. How ya doing?” The weasel asks from ground level, trying to play it cool. I can tell he's afraid. 

“I can see two futures for you, Duke,” I tell him, and play my part by making sure he sees me nod at Judy. “One has you cooperating, and you have all your teeth and no broken legs. We have some questions about night howlers, and you’re just the delivery mammal we need.”

“I don’t know-“

Judy shakes him before I can even start to growl or move forward. Weaselton's eyes dart back and forth between the two of us. 

“I was taking those night howler bulbs to a ram named Doug. We’ve got a drop spot underground,” he says, not looking directly at either of us now. His scent changed to a kind of anticipation when he was looking at me, and that tells me he’s holding something back. Of course, he's always trying to hold something back. 

“And?” I ask. Information is his currency and he always tries to get a better deal. 

“And Doug is very unfriendly. Got two other rams working with him also.”

“Thanks, Duke. You’ve been very helpful. In return, my associate and I will depart. Don’t worry about letting Doug know we’re coming. If you do, we’ll be back. You heard what happened to those rams on Lagomorph Street last week, right? This is that bunny.”

He scent changes all the way to fear, and he nods and gives us the address of the drop spot. Judy lets him get up, and then he’s off like a shot as soon as he gets his feet under him.

“You know I wouldn’t have broken his kneecap, right?” Judy asks me. She seems to be genuinely interested in making sure I understand. 

“I know that,” I assure her. I also know that ram’s knee was shattered, not broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm thinking Judy probably did a zoogle search of "night howlers" and "flowers" and probably "purple" and came up with that mindicampium flower. Or even if they didn't, botany is "sort of a big deal" in Judy's family, so it would be easy for her to put two and two together.


	9. Fighting some rams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick and Judy go to the drop spot, and find the train car, but Doug is not there.

We went to the address we got from the weasel, opened the gate, and went down the stairs. I saw a train car on the other side of some tracks. We both stopped and waited as a train passed us going from our right to our left, away from downtown. 

“OK, there’s a car. Now, what we need to do is-"

"Carrots! Wait!” I’m still trying to be quiet, but I said that louder than I would have liked. This rabbit likes to leap and then look. She'll be the death of me!

Judy pauses near the back of the car, and listens, and I try to curse my luck without making too much noise. “Nick. Do you see anyone coming?” She says, ignoring the sounds I'm making. I suppose I could whisper and that would still work, but I’m too excited to do any such thing. 

“No, but that doesn’t mean much. I can see better in the dark than other mammals, but there is very little light down here.”

The outside of this train car seems to be in pretty good shape, and there is very little dust around the back side by the steps up to the door. I climb up and peer in a convenient window. I don't want to use the door until I know more about who or what may be waiting for us. 

There is no one visible inside and very few places a ram might be hiding. There are two rows of purple flowers, some lab equipment on a table with a stool, various canisters of flammable gas, and an open doorway at the far end leading to the control room for the car. I can see by several status lights that this car is getting power, at least. There is no restroom and I don't smell a chamber pot, so the operator won’t be expecting to stay here more than a few hours at a time. They probably take breaks at a coffee shop. 

I climb in through the window and Judy follows after pausing briefly to listen. I help her down and realize we've found of cornucopia of evidence. On the wall, we notice the list of mammals that Doug was apparently targeting, and Judy takes a recording of everything with her phone. She tries to call in, but can’t get a connection. 

“Let’s grab something. We might have to leave in a hurry and I want some physical evidence to show Chief Bogo,” Judy says. 

“Grab what? Not much of this stuff is portable. Why do we need anything? We already have your phone video,” I tell her. "Unless you want the whole car?" 

She looks at me like I'm crazy, and I try using my phone, but I cannot get a good connection from down here. 

“Let’s just get upstairs.”

\-------------------------------------------------

 

“OK, now what?” I ask Judy. We’ve just exited the stairway from the tunnel. I didn’t smell anyone and she didn't hear anything before we came out, but the nose isn’t very reliable at a distance in these scent crowded cities. Scent tends to be an “up close and personal” kind of thing in my experience. 

“Chief needs to see our video, then we need to get some officers-“ Judy begins, but does not finish because I see a crossbow pointed at her from across the street. 

“Down!” I shout and push her behind a parked car. A dart goes through the space she had occupied a moment ago. I then dive behind the same car, but I don’t have to dodge any arrows. Maybe there is only one shooter?

“An arrow?” she asks, looking at the missile now that it’s on the sidewalk behind us, having hit the wall and dropped. 

“That is a home made crossbow bolt. Probably some one knows some one with a woodworking lathe.”

“Those things are illegal,” she tells me, indignantly. 

“Mammals need a permit for the kind of weapon I have, so criminals tend to make their own because they don't want, or can't get, permits. These guys made a crossbow. I saw a ram aiming across the street and now I’m pretty sure they’re coming closer to finish the job. None of them want to meet us first, and we can use that.”

I sneak a look under the car and see six hairy legs and hoofs, all moving, slowly and cautiously, in our general direction. They don’t seem to be in much of a hurry. It’s a triangle formation, with one of them behind the other two and not all three in a line shoulder to shoulder, so I hope the trailer is the shooter and the other two have knives or clubs. I also hope I’m right thinking that there is only one shooter, who is now reloading, because there was only the one arrow shot at us. I have a tranq pistol, but meter maids like Judy apparently don’t get weapons, possibly to avoid the inevitable lawsuit when a ticketed citizen gets a little too lippy and then shot. 

I get back up, but easily keep my head down behind the hood of the tall car. It’s a blue impala. It's barely medium sized for mammals like us, but too big for mice and not quite large enough for elephants. A mouse car would not have given us any cover, of course, and an elephant car would have forced us to hide behind only the wheels. This isn’t perfect, but it’s better than nothing. I can’t see much or shoot back from here, but they can’t shoot at us, and probably can’t see us at all. 

“They’re coming. I’m going to try and take out their shooter. You do that thing you did with the sheep, OK? Go left,” I tell her, quietly, gesturing for emphasis, and getting ready to make my move. She’ll hear me and the bad mammals won’t. 

“I can hear them. They’re-“

“NOW, Officer Hopps! Move your tail!” I shout that last as I bring up my own pistol and move to the right, around the front of the Impala. Several things occur to me as I take aim by the front and I get my first good look at the three rams and their weapons. 

First, there are two crossbows loaded and one is pointed directly at me. They’re carrying them at hip level, not up by their shoulders, so that’ll make them less accurate and that’s good news. I had hoped to rush them before the shooter could reload, but that obviously didn’t work, which is bad news. Second, Judy probably had some training in this at the Police Academy, so yelling at her like a newbie in one of my squads wasn’t a great idea. 

Two of the rams freeze when they see me. The third one, the closest of the two with the loaded crossbows, sees me and lets loose his bolt. 

It comes no where near me, of course. You’ve got to train for snap shots at small, moving, and unexpected targets like this, and shooting from the hip the way he did only works when you have dozens, or preferably hundreds, of shooters. The other crossbow is ready to shoot , but he’s behind his buddy with the now unloaded weapon, so I stop and take aim, waiting for my opportunity when one or the other moves. The front ram won’t rush me because we’ve both got projectile weapons, but either his buddy will move to get a better shot, or he’ll move, and then-

It doesn’t matter because the one behind shoots the one in front. Apparently he was aiming for me and loosed when he saw that his buddy had missed, forgetting that his buddy was that close. Again, this is a training, or lack thereof, problem. I wait for that ram to fall / stumble out of the way, and then dart the other one. Both are down and out of the fight, so I back up toward the car again, reloading and looking for Judy. 

I see her on top of the third ram preparing to cuff him. This one had some sort of bat or club, but Officer Hopps is entirely uninjured. Can’t say the same for the ram. Too bad I missed whatever it was she did! 

She gets out her radio and does the “officer needs assistance” and "shots fired" things. She checks ‘my’ rams, and cuffs them. One of them in pain and barraging us with various sheep curses, but he’s not in mortal danger.

“About earlier-“

“Yeah,” she says, looking away from me and waving off my excuses. “I know what you were doing, and why. However, if we’re going to continue working together, we need to discuss things like this. We didn’t, but it worked out anyway. That’s the important thing here.”

I am relieved to hear that. I tend to think of the job first and the people second in this sort of situation, but not many agree with me. Officer Hopps, Judy, apparently does agree. 

More cops show up and then also a couple of ambulances. The medics go to work on the ram with the crossbow bolt, but he’ll be fine, judging by the amount of swearing he’s still doing. One of the cops starts to question me about my tranq pistol, but Judy just kind of waves her off. “He’s OK,” she tells the other cop, who then walks over to her and they start talking about cop things as I walk toward them. 

Judy shows the new cops the video we took underground and I learn the name of the wolf. These two are Fangmeyer and Delgato, and female wolf and male tiger, respectively.

Soon, even more cops, including Chief Bogo, arrive and some of them, not including the chief, head underground after viewing our video. They come back up shortly to report the train car is gone, apparently moved while we were dodging crossbow bolts, but no one is very worried up here. As Chief Bogo put it while briefing his officers, “They can’t get far. The tracks go out of town in one direction or to the train yard and natural history museum in the other. The train yard is a bad idea because it’s all open ground and they’ll be reported as soon as they show up. That leaves the natural history museum, currently closed for remodeling. They'll think it's perfect.”

Bogo pauses, and then makes a kind of slashing gesture when he sees us. “Wilde, this is a matter for my experienced officers, and civilians like you are not invited.”

“I’ve had enough fun for one day anyway,” I reply. It's true. I generally prefer to have only one shoot out per day.

“Good, now why don’t you-“

“Go home?” I ask him. It's what I'd like to do, and I gave my statement earlier. Chief already knows I have a permit for my weapon, so that was no problem. 

The big buffalo just grunts, clearly more interested in what he's going to do at the museum than dealing with an annoying fox. “Hopps, why don’t you make sure he gets there safely?” He doesn’t want me sneak back in on the action, evidently. "Take your time," he tells her. Evidently, he doesn't want her in the action either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not super happy with this chapter, and I kind of feel like I rushed it too much.


	10. Meeting the Mayor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lion had to know he couldn't keep the secret forever....

“Mayor Lionheart, your 4 PM is here,” the mayor’s kangaroo assistant says. She has her head in the mayor’s office, but her body is still outside, so as to disturb her boss as little as possible. She likes her job and knows how to read the big cat's mood. 

“Thank you Sheila,” the mayor replies. “Any word yet from Bellweather? Or any idea where she might be?” 

“No, sir.”

“OK, thanks. Send in the fox,” the mayor says and resists the urge to flex his claws. It wouldn’t make him feel much better anyway, and it’s not like he hasn’t been expecting this. 

The massive doors to the mayor’s office now open all the way, and a small predator walks in. This visitor doesn’t bother to stop and close the big doors; that is not his job. Sheila will take care of it this time just as she did last time. He doesn’t look particularly impressed by the size of the doors or the ornate office. Again, like last time. He’s a fox and not a large one; he's only about half the size of a red fox and no fox can be as big as a lion. He wears scent mask and a rather expensive suit this afternoon.

The mayor rises from behind his desk, but doesn’t come around the desk to greet this visitor as the office doors close once more. There is an etiquette to these things and the lion doesn’t want the long eared trouble maker to think he’s too welcome. In fact, the desk is a kind of shield the big cat unconsciously hides behind. His guest jumps up on the chair on the platform in front of the big desk, and then jumps on the desk itself, and puts out a paw to shake Lionheart’s now offered paw as the mayor grimaces. 

‘I hate it when he does that,’ the mayor thinks to himself, glad that foxes aren’t one of the mammals with superior hearing. ‘It’s impressive that he can leap like that, but a mammal’s feet, no matter their size, belong on the floor.' 

This is a quirk about the mammal utopia. Everyone lives more or less together in more or less equality, but some believe they are clearly more equal than others. Large mammals, the ‘megafauna’ like elephants, rhinos, bulls, and to a less extent, lions and tigers, occupy the positions of greatest power. The next level down would be expected to be the medium sized mammals like wolves, sheep, deer, and foxes, the regular ‘fauna.’ Mice, of course, are microfauna, but they have their own habitat, don’t mingle much with their larger brethren, and tend to deal primarily in the world of high finance. ‘This fox doesn’t seem to realize that a lion is his superior due to size,’ the mayor thinks to himself. 

“Mr. Mayor,” the fox says, before releasing part of one of Lionheart’s paws and jumping back to the medium sized chair in front of the large mammal sized desk. He doesn’t sit down. Instead, he tips and balances the chair, while standing on his own hind legs and making it look easy. 

‘Must be some feline genes,’ the mayor thinks, but he knows he could never do such a thing.

“I’ll be brief because I know your time is valuable,” the fox continues, trying to sound like he's serious. “I understand that our operations against Bellweather’s mammals have recently had a sudden upturn?”

‘Our operations?’ Lionheart wonders, but doesn’t say. Aloud, “That’s right. ZPD caught three of them after a street fight and then caught two more and found their drug lab under the natural history museum earlier today.  


"A lucky break, apparently. Officer Judy Hopps, the rabbit cop I placed in Precinct 1, figured out where the drug lab was located and then they tried to kill her before Chief Bogo arrived.”

“I understand that Hopps had a companion?” the fox asks. As if he didn’t know who that had been. 

“Yes. A red fox, apparently. Nickolas Wilde,” the mayor says. He looked like it was painful to admit it; maybe it was.

“A fox, indeed. Do you know why was he helping her?” this fox asks. 

“I don’t know. She helped him when a couple of wolves tried to kill him in an alley last week. Maybe he thought he owed her one?”

“Wolves? No, they were sheep,” the small mammal commentes. 

“Whatever,” the mayor says. “Why does it matter?”

“Most of the wolves work for us and the sheep don't," the fox says. Now he holds both paws up and starts counting on his fingers. "They lost two mammals in that alley, three in the street fight, and then two more at the lab. They've got to be running low on mammal power. With that in mind, it’s time to let the police find Cliffside while everyone is still stirred up about the night howlers. You’ll need to be ready.”

“I know what I have to do,” the mayor says. He doesn’t growl, but barely.

“Today or tomorrow,” the vulpine adds. 

Now the feline does growl, but the fox just cocks his head slightly as if hearing something odd. He waits and the growling stops. “I’ll be arrested,” the lion says. 

“Unlikely. Chief Bogo is currently listening to the confessions of those goons that are willing to talk. Enough of them will tell the ZPD that Bellweather hired them, because she did. What do you think is going to happen next? Why do you think no one can find Bell? She must have been tracking Hopps by tracking her unique radio signal, and that traffic trike, so Bell knew the police knew about the lab and then they seized the lab and caught some of her flunkies so she’s probably running.”

"Bellweather? She's-" The lion tries to say.

"The brains behind the sheep. Come on. Don't you even know what the word 'bellweather' means?"

The lion pauses, and tries to think. Then he adds, “they could still be dangerous.”

“True, but unlikely," the fox replies. "Even if the remaining lambs united and even if the police missed the shooter, it doesn’t matter very much. Alone, without resources, without guidance, without the cover of preds going savage story, he’ll not be much trouble before he's hunted down and caught. 

“It’s going to be all over the news. Nighthowler Flowers Make Savages. Nobody will be worried about only preds like us going savage. They'll know someone, like Bellweather, was causing it, and we’re going to have a cure any day now. 

“Which brings us back to you and Cliffside. You’re going to confess everything to Chief Bogo after calling an emergency meeting of the Council.”

“Or?”

“Hopps will find Cliffside on her own. Well, not entirely alone, but the result will still be the same if you don’t get out in front of it. You’ll be blamed for illegal imprisonment, and it’ll be harder for you to talk your way out. The sooner you confess, the better for you, and you probably won’t even do jail time if you spin it right. Don’t confess or delay too long? Expect to get familiar with our surprisingly underfunded prisoner holding areas. I hear the magazine selection is old, but apparently first rate.

“It’s up to you, Mr. Mayor.”

“I don’t guess I have a choice, do I, Mr. Sternfang?”

“Not really,” the fox replies. He lets the chair settle on all four legs again, jumps off, and then pauses before turning toward the door. "Call me Finn."

“Is that really your name?”

The fox just smiles, showing his teeth in the predator way because there are no prey in the room. “Does it matter?” Then he walks toward the door.

“Wait. How did you find Cliffside?” The lion asks just before the fox leaves the office for the final time. 

“Seriously? Have you ever watched Zootube? Mammals tend to notice and take video by the time someone kidnaps half a dozen mammals off the streets with a white van full of excitable timber wolves and rope guns. You grabbed over a dozen. Bell helped you with the police, but the ZPD was not your only concern.”


	11. The fox goes home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rabbit and the fox now need only fulfill Bogo's order to get Nick home and, coincidentally, away from Bogo.

“So, Carrots, lunch?” The fox asks, as the two of them walk toward a nearby bus stop. He had considered annoying Chief Bogo until a squad car was supplied, but then decided against it.

“Lunch?” Judy asked. “Now? It’s afternoon, and too late for lunch.”

“Yes, I know, but I’m hungry. Lunch is the meal after breakfast, but before dinner, or supper or whatever you call it, and I seldom get the chance to share food with a pretty female.”

“Do you generally eat with ugly ones or do the pretty ones refuse to share with you?” the rabbit asked, trying to look innocent.

“Ugly ones?” Nick asked, surprised. “Oh, right, you got me. Very funny.” Now he realized she didn't smell curious. 

They walked a little further. “How about here?” 

Judy looked where he pointed and saw a café. It looked like every other one of its type throughout the city, but Judy had noted the presence of several other places to eat nearby that the fox ignored. “What’s special about this one?”

“I know the owner,” the fox replied. “And some friends eat there sometimes. Try the lasagna, it's great.”

So they ate and Judy could see that Nick really did know the badger owner. Apparently, Nick knew him well enough to not even get a bill, or expect one. Judy paid anyway while Nick talked to one of the wolf patrons about someone's grandfather or maybe it was a name? Then the fox and the rabbit left to resume their journey. 

“What was that? What about the bill?”

“Owner owes me a favor or three,” was the reply. “Also, it’s not like I got the most expensive thing on the menu. Or alcohol, for that matter.”

‘I'm not sure that’s not the point,’ Judy thought, but let the matter drop. 

The rabbit and the fox boarded a bus and then transferred to another one a few stops later. Nick barely paid any attention to the maps, but Judy was still getting used to this area and clearly would have missed the stop had she been alone. 

Nick noticed this and kept up a low voiced running commentary about the scenery until the bus reached the appropriate stop. Nick pushed the signal button and then stood by the door with Judy and made eye contact with the driver. No other mammals were getting off here at this time of day. 

The bus stopped, the grey rabbit and the red fox got off, and the bus drove away. “Welcome to my home!” Nick said and gestured. 

Judy was not impressed by what she saw. There was a sign with the words “Center for Advanced Mammal Peace,” a gravel track from the highway behind them and then a stone bridge over a dry river bed, and an asphalt track beyond that leading to several large buildings in the distance, possibly a quarter mile away. There were various fenced in areas between the highway and those buildings. Judy noticed several different crops including cotton, beans, and corn in the various stages of growth made possible by the year round growing seasons in Zootopia. “It’s very interesting.”

Nick sniffed and laughed. “Right, I'm sure you're just too polite to say what you're actually thinking! Fox's Hollow must look like some sort of hobby farm, eh? Bunnyborrough is a farming town, so I’ll need to show you something far more impressive to impress you.”

'Fox's Hollow?' Judy wondered, 'I thought he'd say CAMP.' Aloud, she asked, “Chief said to make sure you make it home, so where do you actually-“ Her question was interrupted when she heard a truck slow down on the highway behind them and then make the turn. 

“Ah, here’s our ride. I was hoping to catch him coming back from a pie delivery in the City,” Nick said, waving and then waiting as the driver saw him and slowed to a stop. Nick was puzzled when the vehicle stopped early and the driver, now clearly visible through the windscreen, stared at them without getting out of the vehicle. 

“Judy,” Nick said, “this is-“

“Gideon Gray,” the rabbit said. Her ears had gone back and her scent had changed to surprise. 

“Yes, that’s right. He’s, well, he’s one of our success stories, actually. We help various mammals, usually predators, transition from the criminal justice system to normal society. Gideon spent some time behind bars years and years ago for a problem involving… Oh. A rabbit. Right,” Nick said, and rubbed his eyes with one paw before looking back at Judy. "Gods Damn it."

Judy wasn’t moving or speaking at the moment, but her ears had come back up and her scent seemed less uncertain, so Nick motioned to the driver to exit the truck and come closer. The other fox complied, and Nick could see and smell the fox’s fear and uncertainty. Ears back, shoulders hunched, and tail down between his legs. He refused to meet Nick’s eyes, and stopped facing the rabbit. 

“Judy Hopps, I’m sorry for what I did. I would say it was a product of my unprocessed rage and feelings of impotence, but that’s no excuse. Please forgive me,” Gideon said. Then he knelt down, put his muzzle up to expose his neck, and pulled up his shirt to expose his belly fur. 

“What the carrot sticks?” Judy asked, confused again. She looked at Gideon, who didn’t move, and then at Nick, who sighed. 

“We tend to be very traditional here. The short version comes down to one question. Do you forgive him?” Nick asked, now looking at Judy. He could smell Gideon’s fear and see his closed eyes. 

“Oh, well, of course I forgive him. I forgave him years ago. My brothers may never forgive him, and my parents still talk about him in less than friendly terms, but… it was a long time ago.”

“OK. Good,” Nick said. He clapped his paws and then addressed the kneeling fox. “Get up. This is your penance. Give Judy and me a ride to the dorms.”

Gideon smiled, got up, pulled down his shirt, and dusted off his pants legs before walking over and opening the truck’s passenger door for Judy. He didn’t try to help her into the truck or touch her in any way, but it was clear from his manner that he probably would have been willing to get down on all fours on the ground so she could put her foot on his back, to help her into the truck, had she asked. Nick smirked and gave him a hand gesture, so Gideon crossed to the driver’s side of the truck by going around the front. Nick got in on the passenger side after Judy and closed the truck's door. 

Gideon got in and restarted the vehicle. Then he looked a question at Judy, who sat between the two foxes on the wide bench type seat common to vehicles like this one. 

“Onward,” she said, and pointed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of this version, as told by Nick's friends. I've got several ideas for what happens next in addition to why Nick becomes a cop in this version. I plan to add more later and call it "Fox's Hollow" or "Wolfhollow" or something similar. Stories about Bunnyborrow have been done and done again, so why not add another town with a different majority population? Maybe later, someone can do a Tigertown or something.... 
> 
> I've had a story request and I plan to write that one next. Brief summary: Nick and Judy solve the missing mammals case, but they don't work together because they don't meet at the ice cream store

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the characters from Zootopia, of course, and you may notice details from other fanfics here. I can change those other details or tell you where I got them, but I'd rather try to be as consistent as possible with names and places even when I use them slightly differently.


End file.
